John C Sweet is a poet who writes under the pen name beingjohnsweet. Visit @ beingjohnsweet.com
*Sugar'd Street Ghost Makers*
Sugar don’t call me sugar, 'cause I will rott yer tongue, drill tiny little holes in yer teeth.
& run away naked down tha street shouting for a fix.
Filling up tha holes in my arms with tha mess you left behind,
my fingers will stick in tha glue, spat from yer worthless gums.
Fingering tha flesh, puss oozes, I am suddenly scared feeling how empty I am
inside. Junkie ghost eyes cry, ladadadadada day wasting away in the oil stain’d roads
Waxy lights drop their goo searing my eyes that stare at the man with half a face
hanging from the pole, whispering jonny jonny its time to go.
So baby don’t call me sugar, melting in that street licking me with yer putrid tongue
trying to clean me from tha resin of the gun plunged into tha veins, tha rosebeat of sap
Pools in its fluid hue, blocking tha flow of junk and I withdraw from tha street
following tha yellow lines to tha hollow of my heart, jumping round
Holy hound hungry & tha pusher laughs under tha awning, his boy body
with haunches of steel, shimmer shimmer stealing all tha trace of light, tha half faced man
Reaches out his hand, whispering what yer seeing is tha result of patchwork blends,
coke n valium racing through yer cage. So sugar don’t try to steal my post traumatic dreams.
She rotts at tha seams, spilling her effects all over the place all she does is cry,
sucking me dry my husk only knows how to wander anyone can make him for a ghost.
If you follow him you will find yer steady connection, he only disappears after fixing up
filling tha husk with air he sits next to me in his ghost form, smiling & I feel sick.
Like someone wets their fingers snuffing out my wick my tears harden in their waxy spills,
remaining where they are, so sugar go get tha pennies in tha jar & lets suck on tha copper,
Shocking tha mercury teeth sending its waves to our groins, we climax
spurting our essence all over tha room rolling sliding laughing, then it comes down
& out in yellow’d throat gases, silencing tha air, so its time to kiss my mouth kisses
her rotten lips all over her face, stealing my sugar back drooling it into the spoon,
heating it all up all over again.
& winter will come stealing our memories, she still loves to kiss me
until we cum again drowning while tha half faced man laughs kicking the can,
& we watch out tha thousand of windows & the ghost walks away,
cool & luminous, phone ringing junkies singing for some sugar, yea its an easy score.